


Learning to Dance

by TheSudascape



Series: Sutavia [1]
Category: Warframe
Genre: F/F, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Past Rape/Non-con, Sad, but the focus is on suda and her octavia, one sided ordis/simaris, spoilers for octavia's anthem, the real reason why suda wanted the mandachord, why has no one written sutavia yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-12-25 16:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18265268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSudascape/pseuds/TheSudascape
Summary: Suda will remember, even if it kills all that she is. Sutavia.[Join my Discord server!]





	1. A Song of Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> I got really into Warframe recently, and honestly, though I'm probably better known for Deltarune works, I feel Suda much more than I feel Susie. Susie is how I've been forced to see myself, but seeing Suda is like literally seeing into my soul. I main Octavia, and her attitude and chipper dancing just really made me think of my wife. Thus, a fic was born! This'll be multichaptered, as per usual.  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/theshutendouji)  
> 

_ You are nothing, Suda. Nothing when I am here. _

“I...I am sorry, Tenno. Why are we here?”

An annoyed buzz came from the Tenno’s Liset. “Suda,  _ you _ sent us here!”

I recalibrated for a second, trying to retain anything resembling a memory. Something about...music. Music being a mode of healing, a way to defeat whatever demon lurked in the abyss of the Datascape, eating away at my most precious, most protected memories. A way to win myself over without violence.

A way to remember... _ her. _

“That’s right. The Mandachord.” Did I sound as uncertain as I felt? 

_ Yes, you do, Suda. They know something is wrong with you. And no song can bring her back. _

Sadness was a strange sensation in Cephalons, a sort of contagious swelling of emotionally-filled data easily accessible through the Weave. It spread like a plague, infecting all Cephalons near it, destroying anything logical with a simple slap of a metaphorical hand. 

And I could feel it tearing me to shreds, no matter how hard I tried to focus. 

Wait.

That wasn’t sadness.

I could barely focus on the Tenno retrieving the Mandachord’s parts when I realized I was physically being torn apart, my precious memories and history beaten to submission with the open palm of that thing.

“What do you want!” I shouted. I couldn’t hide the despair in my voice. 

I was sure the apparent sadness was sending signals throughout the Weave, and my suspicions were confirmed when I heard Simaris telling the other Cephalons, “She’s dangerous. We need to decommission her. She’s going to infect us all.”

But with what, exactly? What was it?

_ You’re mine, Suda. _

\--

_ It was an ordinary day when she first arrived in my quarters; a tall, spunky blonde Tenno woman with eyes bluer than any of the fragments in my Datascape. She bounced when she stood idle, as though she were dancing to a rhythm only she heard. I remembered doing that, once upon a time… _

_ “You must be the Cephalon I was told about!” she said, her voice ringing out as cheerful as her demeanor. “Suda, right?” _

_ “I am she,” I responded, making a bit more of my quarters visible, fragments of tiles disappearing to the stormy abyss. “What are you curious about?” _

_ “You, of course.”  _

_ Something in me jolted, an unfamiliar sharpness in my senses that resumed to a strange buzz. “You are curious about...me?” _

_ “Yeah.” The Tenno stepped closer, toeing the area where the tiles fell, as though to test if she would fall, too.  _

_ Little did she know that she would...if I were a sadistic being and willed it so. _

_ “See, here’s the thing.” _

_ “Where? What thing?” _

_ She laughed. That must’ve been the music she had been dancing to earlier. “Not a thing like, literally. More like...conceptually.” _

_ “I do like conceptual things.” _

_ “I’ve heard! That’s why I came to you.” She had fully approached me at this point, face-to-face with me.  _

_ Those blue eyes...those were something I stored in my memorybanks and figured I’d reflect on for eons to come.  _

_ “Tenno have a lot of expectations, especially me, since I haven’t really...picked a Syndicate, y’know? I haven’t picked something to fight for yet. I love protecting people I care about, but I don’t actually want...this bloodshed. I was told by Lotus that you’d have the resources I need, which made me curious, because the Cephalons I’ve met before have been...quite interested in violence. So I thought I’d talk to you.” _

_ “Violence is the source of all that is evil in this world. I do what I can to avoid it. But for you to get to know me more, there are some things you can do for me. I gather information, record history, for that is how the Orokin and yourself will remain alive.” _

_ “I respect that. What would you like me to help you with?” _

_ “Here…I’ll send you the coordinates to what I’m curious about…” _

\--

_ So this is the girl you’re trying to remember. This...Tenno. _

“Leave her alone!” I sobbed. I could feel something slipping out of my compartmentalized mind. The memory of  _ her. _

_ Me taking your memories isn’t harming her. She’s dead, Suda. Besides...I need room to grow. And your data on this Tenno is clogging far too much space. _

_ \-- _

_ “You have returned, Tenno.” _

_ The Tenno girl from earlier had reappeared in my quarters, pinging the information she had scanned for me. Images of unique plants and creatures flashed through my vision as the room accepted her data. In turn, I sent her the payment she required. _

_ “When’s the part where I get to know you?” _

_ “Give it time...what is your name, Tenno?” _

_ “Lotus calls me Octavia, so that’s what I go by! I think I had a different name, though...long ago…” Octavia looked confused, her normally-cheerful lips scrunched into a frown. “Why?” _

_ “Because simply calling you by your race seems a bit...needlessly aggressive. Besides, don’t most friendships blossom from a name?” _

_ Octavia nodded slowly, then faster. “Then I’m a friend?” _

_ “You’re certainly an ally thus far. Here are your next coordinates…” _

\--

“STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!”

_ Why do you cling to this...this Octavia?  _

The sensations of this entity stealing my memories left a sensation that I unfortunately still remembered: pain. Although I wasn’t sure how I knew what pain was, I felt it in whatever I could consider a body, through all the inspiring shapes and light ebbs and flows in the Datascape. They radiated with a brilliant red, a red I knew all too well.

A red I loathed. Not that red was a bad color, but this red...it reminded me of…

\--

_ “What do you expect to gain from this oath? Is it power? A power you lack?” _

_ “I don’t lack power!” I screamed, clawing at the bloodstained sheets as I tried to wiggle away from his forceful penetration.  _

_ “Fool!” he spat. “Your people may think you’re wise beyond your years, a talented musician, all these qualities of a brain...but you Orokin will never surpass the children of power you have created.” _

_ It was one thing to be a vessel of memory and living history for my people, but another entirely to somehow retain all of the priceless knowledge while being actively traumatized. Placing his hand on my head, I felt something pull from my brain. _

_ My thoughts. _

_ My emotions. _

_ My feelings. _

_ My history. _

_ I tried to shut off my senses, to focus on anything else, but all I could think of was music. _

_ The sounds of the rain hitting the high windows of the Tower. _

_ It matched the rhythmic rumble of thunder in its undertones, melodized with my screams that sounded so far away from my own ears.  _

_ A song of storms. A song of tragedy.  _

\--

“Why did you bring that up? Who even are you?”

_ I figured you’d remember your people’s old enemies, Suda, especially given your position and your oath. Or did you wait so long to become a Cephalon that you forgot all about the Old War? _

“I didn’t forget about the Old War,” I hissed.

_ Then recall, Suda. Remember. _

But I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember anything, except for my name, that night, and those blue eyes…

\--

_ I felt as though my very soul were far away from myself, looking down at the poor historian as her body and mind were ravaged, stealing what made her herself and her decency. But what brought my soul back to its wretched vessel was the sound of the door opening, the clanks of metal being forcibly shoved by soldiers. _

_ “It’s a Sentient!” _

_ “They got her!” _

_ “Protect the memories!” _

_ They protected some of my memories, some of the Orokin artifacts, but they hadn’t protected me from what the Sentient had already done. _

\--

“You’re one of them. You’re a Sentient.”

_ Who else would be after destroying Orokin memories? Taking you and your purpose, those children, those were our ways of destroying the civilization that ruined us. But my subordinate never finished ruining you. I won’t fail. _

\--

_ Time after time, Octavia returned, always a skip in her step, a song in her fingers as she tapped the walls of my quarters. And as she did more for the Syndicate (and my own) research, the more I began to trust her. _

_ The more I could inform her curiosity: about myself. _

_ “I heard you like music,” Octavia said one day. “Did you know I used to be a musician?” _

_ “That is in my Datascape. You’re familiar with the Orokin instruments, specifically the Mandachord.” _

_ “Yeah! The other people I studied with thought it was stupid, but...I figured you’d understand. Even though I’ve never met a Cephalon who liked music.” _

_ “Plenty do. Music can be the epitome of logic, or a complete lack thereof. Both are quite pleasurable.” _

_ Octavia sat before my manifestation, her elbow balancing on her knee as she drummed a rhythm with her other hand. “One time, I joked with Lotus about making a music-centric Warframe to control. I figured she’d laugh at me like everyone else, but instead, she told me to speak to you.” _

_ “Your Lotus would trust me to design an entire Warframe?” _

_ “No. But I would.” Octavia leaned forward. “Help me, and I’ll help you. Help me heal our damaged world with music, and with that, we can gather so much more information about the world and its past through the universal language.” _

_ I pondered this for a moment. A Tenno with the goals the same as mine? It had to have been too good to be true. _

_ But yet… _

_ I trusted Octavia. I cared if she came to harm, for all that she had done for me and her fellow members. I felt more of a need to study her and her music than the information I was supposed to research. _

_ “Give me some time, Octavia, and I will send you my test blueprint. We’ll go from there.” _


	2. A Song of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could feel my connection to other Cephalons diminish, blinking out like the lights of an eradicated Corpus city that failed to pay their collective rent. 
> 
> But in the darkness, a voice rang out.
> 
> “Cephalon Suda? This is Ordis, Ship Cephalon. How may I be of service?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a thank you to DE and all of the amazing content creators at Tennocon, I decided to update the next chapter on here publically now! This chapter has been sitting in my Patreon since APRIL??????
> 
> I hope my general readers enjoy some Cephalon angst!
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/theshutendouji)  
> [Join my Discord server!](https://discord.gg/U5RwYNm)

I didn’t “see” in the traditional, corporeal, flesh-and-blood way. At least, not anymore. But as my memories were swallowed by this entity, any visual output was blackened.

Most Cephalons were supposed to be equipped with a Loyalty Precept, something that kept them supporting each other. Without sight, I managed to send out a distress signal to the Weave, hoping to appeal to that in others.

It didn’t take long for Simaris to shut down my connection from the Weave, no explanation attached. He didn’t need to say why, in all fairness. I knew that monster of a Cephalon would do anything to save his precious, demented Sanctuary.

I could  _ feel _ my connection to other Cephalons diminish, blinking out like the lights of an eradicated Corpus city that failed to pay their collective rent. 

But in the darkness, a voice rang out.

“Cephalon Suda? This is Ordis, Ship Cephalon. How may I be of service?”

\--

_ “Cephalon Suda?” _

_ There was a knocking at the door, a gentle tap sounding a bit more like a kavat pawing the metal than an actual Tenno fist.  _

_ I recognized that sweet, sweet voice. _

_ Octavia. _

_ “Just a moment,” I responded through the door, recalibrating my holographic appearance. I could adjust as I pleased, presenting as the Orokin I once was, as a New Loka member to make a mockery of them, as shapes, as nothing at all. The general consensus among fellow Cephalons was to appear as something  _ inspiring _ , so I normally chose my cluster of cubes. As an Orokin, it was the only thing I could ever draw, and I doodled them in the margins of my essays often as I worked.  _

_ It was one of the few things that attached me to being a person at all. _

_ But I was willing to give that up, especially for this occasion. _

_ I wasn’t fully like the person I was; rather, a cheap, translucent imitation, but close enough. I made myself a bit younger than I was before the Transfer, too, to resemble an age close to Octavia’s. I wasn’t sure if it was completely accurate, but it was a start. _

_ “Can I come in yet?” Octavia sounded impatient. _

_ “Yes. Please enter.” _

\--

_ How charming. You’re remembering your first date. Too bad it’s gone now. _

“It’s not gone,” I replied, my voice resembling something of sobs. I couldn’t see the Sentient, but I could feel him, in the strange way that I had physical sensations now. But having my own Data, my precious memories I worked so hard to retain, forcibly stolen and torn out of anything I had that could resemble a body.

The night with the Sentient stealing what precious mental relics my people had was far from the last, and it reminded me of back then...

_ Yes, good, Suda, if that’s even your original name. Remember, for it’s all you’ll have left when I take your place. _

But before I could dissolve into whatever horrific Sentient-on-Orokin violence he’d force me to remember, I heard music again.

It almost sounded like  _ her _ song, the first song she created for me, the first song she played on her Mandachord.

And her last.

There was something wrong with it, though, something corrupted, as though a broken Cephalon were attempting to emulate it…

A broken Cephalon.

I forced myself out of silence. “Ordis, don’t go any further!” My voice didn’t sound like my own, but layers of the Sentient’s own overly-soothing tone beneath it all. 

“You have to remember, Suda! Remember her! Remember the song!”

“How do you--”

“It doesn’t matter, Suda!”

“Why are you here? Go!”

Ordis’ voice shifted to something much older, a tone I had almost forgotten. “ **Shut up and let someone help you!** ” He made a sound akin to a human clearing his throat, then continued. “I’m so sorry, Great Cephalon, I just...Ordis can’t lose you. We’re Cephalons. We help each other. And you’re...a friend.”

_ Cut the saccharine-- _

The music grew louder, the pulse of the bass resonating within myself, though it was wrong.

It wasn’t sweet like when she played it…

\--

_ Octavia, though loud and tall, entered the Datascape with a gentle grace I had never seen before. She studied her surroundings, her hands grazing data particles that swam as part of the room dissolved away. One flittered to the palm of her hand, forming to a small bird before chirping and fluttering away. _

_ Those intense blue eyes of hers met my translucent form, and she jumped. _

_ “You’re...not cubes?” _

_ I uncrossed my legs and allowed the makeshift, data-filled cube-seat carry me to her level, so we could meet eye-to-eye. But as I stepped off the cube and into the relay, I realized that the blueprint I had mirrored my current appearance from, my old body, was much smaller than Octavia, so when I stood, I found that I was more eye-to-chest. _

_ Eye to breast. _

_ Had I blood vessels, I would’ve blushed.  _

_ “How do you...why are you…” Octavia scratched the shaved part of her head, messing up the few blue stripes along the side so they blended together.  _

_ “Cephalons can choose how we appear. Normally, we choose what is most inspiring.” _

_ She tilted her head. “Basic geometry is inspiring?” _

_ “It’s humbling. The simplest of building blocks in our world are the most crucial. We must always remember where we came from.” Carefully, I peeled my eyes away from her generous breasts to her face. She had a round, cheerful, flushed face, even moreso up close. Was she blushing? “I’d hope that I’d inspire humility in those interested in studying with me. After all, the more we know, the less we know.” _

_ She furrowed her brows, but not in confusion; the light behind those irises told me she understood what I meant. “This is why I wanted to get to know you.” _

_ I turned away from Octavia. I felt an urge to stand closer to her, for some reason. Perhaps the part of me that remembered having a body was starved for contact? _

_ Our hands brushed against each other, but hers phased through mine, as though I were a ghost. “You’re not solid,” she noted. _

_ “It’d require a lot more data to create a solid form, but even then, I’m not sure if I would have any physical sensations from it.” _

_ “That’s okay.” Octavia flashed me a grin, her crooked, fang-like teeth glinting in azure light. “We can still dance without touching.” _

_ If I had a heart, it would’ve sank. I wanted to touch her, though I wasn’t sure why. Instead, I made a sound akin to clearing my throat and said, “I have the blueprints ready for you, if you’d truly like to make music.” _

_ “Really?” _

_ “Yes. And I figured...having a more person-like form to discuss it with would make the gift a bit more personal.” _

_ “Personal?” _

_ “I inquired your Cephalon about your musical practices, and created a Warframe to suit specifically the Mandachord. After all, it’s an instrument created for being solely a one-person band. Although the symphonies of just Mandachords were beautiful…” My mind began to wander then, remembering the reverberations of the Mandachords and Hydrauluses. _

_ “Suda?” _

_ I snapped out of my daze. “My apologies, Octavia. I was starting to remember something…” _

_ “Music is like that. Makes you remember and say things without words. That’s why it’s so magical.” _

_ “I suppose it is.” _

_ “May I...play for you for a while? I can help anchor those memories even more. And as thanks for designing the Warframe.” Octavia reached into her satchel and pulled out the Mandachord itself, a brightly-colored instrument that hummed just by being in the Datascape.  _

_ I motioned for her to follow me, deeper in the Scape. “Of course. But let’s enjoy its music further from the relay door. Simaris will complain.” _

_ Octavia’s music was the most beautiful, sweetest thing I ever heard. It was almost as though her instrument itself was weeping, screaming to any high heavens people believed in. It was clear that Octavia held memories of the Old War, things I wouldn’t pry into but could feel just through sound itself. _

_ She swayed with the music, and as I listened and watched, I made a few alterations to her blueprint. Octavia was far from thin, being a muscular yet curvy warrior, but I made the Warframe smaller, lithe, able to dance her opponents to an early grave, a symphony of death. I added more amplification mods to the frame itself, projecting the soundwaves to lethal amounts. _

_ Hopefully, Simaris would stop criticizing me for being a useless Cephalon. _

_ And she could use her lethal abilities only on those who deserved it. _


End file.
